


Just another Shrunkyclunks

by StuckySituation



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Happy Ending, M/M, POV Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 22:30:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20553725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StuckySituation/pseuds/StuckySituation
Summary: Steve and Bucky were best friends. Then Bucky died (or so Steve thought) and Steve became Captain America. One day, by chance, they reunite.That's it, that's the story, at least if you made the mistake and askedSteveabout it.---Tony leans back on his chair and looks at him with serious eyes. “Tell me what happened. Tell me what’s your version of the story.”“What do you mean, ‘my version of the story’?”“Just humor me.”“I was a sickly kid. I sure as hell didn’t look like… this. When I was a teenager, your father gave me a chance and hired me to work in Stark Expo. I had my own booth. I did caricature art."“In asciencefair. That never stroke you as odd?”





	Just another Shrunkyclunks

**Author's Note:**

> The title was my tongue-in-cheek WIP title through writing this, and I've grown so fond of it that I decided to keep it as an actual title of the fic.
> 
> This AU is my little baby that I've been brainstorming for awhile, not quite sure how to tackle it since there were so many possible approaches to take, but finally found the one that clicked with me best. Hope you enjoy it! :)

**1998**

“Everyone needs a name. It ain’t right, you not having one.”

“How did you get your name?”

“My ma gave it to me.”

“My mom is dead.”

The boy glared off into the distance and scoffed. “Mr. Stark told you that?”

“Yes.”

“He’s full of bullshit. You shouldn’t listen to him.”

“He’s a good man.”

“He ain’t. I’ll give you a name.”

“Whatever.”

“Steve. And make it fair, give me a new name, too. Then it’s all right.”

Steve thought about it. “Bucky.”

“What the hell kinda name is that?”

“Yours.” It suited the boy. He’d never heard of anyone being called Bucky before, and Bucky was truly one of the kind and deserved an unique name. And Steve liked the sound of it, how it rolled out soft but still had the strong and relentless twist in there.

Bucky sighed. “You suck at names. Bucky ain’t a proper name.”

“Now it is,” Steve said and smiled. It felt oddly powerful, to give someone a name. “I’m not taking it back.”

Bucky punched his shoulder.

  


**2012**

“So, what do you want to do now?” is one of the first questions Tony asks of him when he wakes up in the 2012.

“I want to fight,” Steve says.

“You want to fight.”

“I want to do my duty, Mr. Stark--”

“I told you to call me Tony.”

“Tony. You asked what I want to do, and I want to do my duty. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. To help.”

“I don’t believe that that’s _ all _ you’ve ever wanted, but sure, let’s get back to that in a moment. There are other ways to help people than by fighting, you know.”

“But your father made me a supersoldier. That’s how I can help the most.”

Tony leans back on his chair and looks at him with serious eyes. “Tell me what happened. Tell me what’s your version of the story.”

“What do you mean, ‘my version of the story’?”

“Just humor me.”

“I was a sickly kid. I sure as hell didn’t look like… this. When I was a teenager, your father gave me a chance and hired me to work in Stark Expo.”

“Huh,” Tony says. “Interesting.”

“I worked there for a few summers--”

“What did you do?”

“I had my own booth. I did caricature art.”

“In a science fair. That never stroke you as odd?”

“Well, most of the time I was asked to draw aliens and robots. Spaceships and such. Just these quick sketches that people paid for to take home with them.”

“Hmm.”

“I know it doesn’t sound glamorous, but it wasn’t too bad.”

“No, no. I think it sounds amazing. Did you enjoy it? Making art?”

“I… Yes.”

“What if you would do that instead of fighting? People love art. It helps them survive their existential crises and whatnots.”

Steve stares at Tony for a moment. “That’s not the same thing.”

“You could draw for the little kids in the hospitals.”

“Tony. I enjoyed making art, but… you asked me what I’d want to do, and I want to get out there and fight. Before the serum I didn't mind it so much, but--”

“Serum?”

“Super soldier serum.”

“Right. Of course. ‘Serum’. How convenient.”

Steve stands up. “I’m grateful that you found me and woke me up. I owe you. But I think we’re done with this conversation if all you want to do is try to talk me into wasting your father’s gift.”

Tony sighs. “That’s not what I’m trying to do. I just want you to consider your options with an open mind.”

“I know what I want.”

“I can see that. Fine. If it’s a fight you want, we can get you that. I’m not going to say no for a superhero partner, if that’s what you really, really want to do. But that doesn’t have to be all there is. Seriously, let me know what you want, and it’s yours. Because you’ve got this all wrong. _ You _ don’t owe me shit. _ I _ owe you for what my father’s mistakes.”

“No, you don’t understand--”

_ “You _ don’t understand. But don’t worry about it. Just… let me know if there’s anything you want.”

Steve has never been one to ask for a lot of things, and he almost lets the too generous offer pass when he does remember something. He remembers the sunset and the beach, the wild and vast ocean, the days they sneaked away to explore and adventure together… _ Bucky. _ Christ, his heart aches. “Brooklyn.”

“What?”

“I want to see Brooklyn again.”

  


**1998**

One day Bucky crashed into Steve’s life, and then refused to leave.

It was the first summer Steve worked in the Stark Expo. On one fine Tuesday, he saw a gangly kid among the crowd of people gathered to watch Steve working on his art, but it was just an idle observation. 

The kid stood there for an hour until he was collected by his mother. There was nothing extraordinary about it; Steve had seen plenty of kids running around the Expo before.

But then in the evening, after the Expo’s closing time, the boy sneaked inside Steve’s booth.

“What are you doing here?” Steve, who didn’t yet have a name then, asked.

“Oh shit,” the boy said and stared at him in awe. “I didn’t think you’d be awake still.”

Steve frowned and put his notebook down slowly. “What are you doing here?” he repeated.

“I just wanted to see you again,” the boy said and took a step closer. “You’re so cool.” He took another step and poked Steve’s chest.

Steve swatted his hand off. “Stop that.”

“Sorry,” the boy said. “I can’t believe you’re real.”

“That’s your problem, not mine,” Steve said bristly. “Go away. I’m busy.”

“Can I watch? I’ll stay quiet.”

“And no poking.”

“No poking, I swear. I’m sorry, it was real rude.” The boy sat on the ground next to Steve, not quite touching him. He was quiet for a minute, fidgeting and bumping against Steve every now and then, until he asked: “What are you drawing?”

  


**2012**

Tony delivers on his promise, and the next day he takes Steve to the Coney Island. They walk the beach, and Steve resolutely ignores Tony’s attempts to needle out of him the answers to why they’re there.

Steve takes it all in, the ocean, the beach, the familiar sight of the roller coaster, the greasy smells of food mixing with the saltiness of the ocean.

“You said anything I want, right?” Steve asks.

“Well. Within some reason. I can’t buy you the whole beach, if the kids bother you, but--”

Steve points to one of the apartment buildings nearby. “I want to live there,” he says, expecting a refusal.

Tony just looks at him and then shrugs. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

  


**1998**

Bucky was there on the most days, afterwards. And some evenings. During the day he was hanging in the crowd, making faces at Steve whenever Steve looked up to him from his drawings. He brought Steve dinner after the expo closed, every day something different, and kept asking questions. So many questions. Overwhelming amount of questions.

“What does it taste like?” Bucky asked whenever he brought something new for Steve.

“You’ve got your own hamburger,” Steve said. “You can taste it yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah, but I wanna know what it tastes like to _ you.” _

“It tastes alright.”

“Steeeeve.”

Steve kicked him. “Stop that. You sound like a baby.”

“How do you know what babies sound like?”

“There’s tons of babies crying and whining like you every day.”

“Oh fuck off. Seriously, what does it taste like?”

“I preferred the hot dogs,” Steve said.

“Okay, but why? How do they differ?”

Steve groaned and finally gave in to his impulse to throw the damn hamburger at Bucky’s face.

  


**2014**  
  
“Dum-E, Dummy, my dearest Dumby Dumbo, for the last time,” Tony mutters. “Do not try to help me. No, don’t look at me like that, you silly thing. Stop it. _ Stop it.” _

Steve starts to count idly. He gets to seven before Tony throws his arms up in the air. 

“Fine, you win! Help me all you want! Ugh, you’re the worst.”

“It’s just a robot,” Steve points out, as useless as he knows it is. “There’s an off switch for it, you know.”

“‘Just a robot’,” Tony scoffs. “You know my stance on that, Cap. Majority of the robots are better beings than majority of the humans. Do you see me knocking the lights out of humans whenever they get annoying or stuck in their own loops? No. So I’m not going to start doing that with robots either. That’s not civilized.”

Steve shakes his head, although Tony can’t see it, what with his back towards Steve while he’s working on fixing something made out of steel and bolts with a care that one might expect from a surgeon fixing a child’s heart. 

Steve knows he’s never going to understand the way Tony treats his silly little mechanical machines. JARVIS, Steve can _ almost _ understand, but the bots with barely more self-awareness than toothbrushes? It’s utterly ridiculous, in his opinion.

“And don’t you dare start on yet another speech on how humans matter more than robots,” Tony says. “Don’t you _ dare.” _

“They do, though,” Steve says mildly, and then ducks down as Tony turns to chug a pen at him. He continues, just to needle Tony a little more: “Robots don’t have souls. They’re just machines built by humans.”

Tony sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes at him. “Why do you all test my patience like this? How many times have I tried to explain how _ humans _ are created by _ humans _ just as much as robots are? It’s just a messier process. But does anyone ever listen? _ No. _ Get out of here, Rogers. It’s _ Saturday. _ I don’t want to listen to your speciesisms and non-scientific beliefs on a _ Saturday. _ Go have some fun, if you know what that means. Or go home. Whatever.”

“I’m having plenty of fun here.”

“Go have your fun _ elsewhere.” _

  


**1998**

“We noticed you got a friend this summer,” Mr. Stark said one day to Steve. He regarded Steve with an amused smile before patting his head. “It’s an important part of growing up, having friends, having some fun. So we offered James a summer job here for the next year. You’ll see him again in the spring.”

  


**2014**

Steve does know about having mundane fun. It’s just not high on his priorities.

Downtime makes him anxious these days. It doesn’t feel… right. It feels purposeless, meaningless.

If he were to name something that gave him true, pure satisfaction, in a way that no amount of ‘fun’ ever could, that would be his time as Captain America. Whenever the duty called (too rarely, in Steve's opinion) and he got his suit on, the deep sense of calmness and purpose filled him. Tony grumbles a lot about their forced anonymity as the Avengers, as they call themselves, but Steve has never minded that.

As long as he has a chance to go out there and help however he can when he is needed, he’s content. He’s in his element when he’s doing something _ good _out in the world. He used to tolerate his work at the Expos in a way that he has never had to when he's fighting.

And although it is, indeed, a calm Saturday evening with no world (or even city) threatening event in sight, Steve decides to ignore Tony’s words and head towards the gym. Working out isn’t ‘fun’, but it manages to scratch some deeply ingrained need inside Steve by the virtue of being about preparing for the next fight.

These hallways are usually empty during the regular weekends, and especially during the weekend evenings, but to Steve’s surprise he hears someone’s low voice as he nears the gym.

He turns the corner slowly, light on his feet and holding his breath, and stops there at the sight of a handsome man in a lab coat, crouched next to a pathetically whizzing roomba that keeps bumping against the wall.

“Aw, buddy,” the guy cooes and gently pets the robot, before picking it up. “Got your sensors fried up? Let’s get you home and fix you up, okay?”

“Gosh, what’s wrong with everyone in this tower?” Steve asks.

The guy jumps at the sound of his voice. “Christ, you gave me a heart attack.”

He turns to face Steve, and Steve’s heart clenches when he sees his face.

“Wasn’t my intention,” Steve says after a too long pause, and then gives the roomba a pointed glance. “Sorry for interrupting your high tech theft there.”

“Uh.” The guy runs one hand through his hair, pulling a few strands loose from his already quite loosened up bun _(it's too long, Bucky never kept his hair long),_ and lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. “I wasn’t going to _ steal _him, just fix him up before bringing him back on Monday.”

“Why not simply take him to the labs, then?” Steve asks.

Strangely, the guy's jaw tightens at Steve’s question. “Yeah, right. As if they wouldn’t just throw him in the dumpster. I know how SI operates.” Steve raises his eyebrow, and the guy hastily adds: “I just mean-- well-- I know he’s ‘just a roomba’, but I dunno… If he can be fixed, even if it takes some time and effort, you gotta try that instead of going the easy solution, you know?”

Steve shakes his head. “You’re right. He _ is _ just a roomba.”

The guy’s face turns dark. “Right. Well, you ain’t the first one to think me loony--”

“Take him to Tony’s personal lab.”

The guy blinks. “What?”

“Tony is there right now fixing a machine that is an expert on making the worst omelettes in the world. If you go straight to him, he won’t throw that thing away, and you won’t get in trouble when you fail to smuggle it out of the tower.”

“I, uh,” the guy flails, managing to look quite adorable doing so. “I can’t just-- you’re talking about _ Tony Stark, _ right? He’s my _ boss. _Actually, not even my boss, he’s like. The boss of the boss of my boss.”

Steve smiles. “Show him the broken bot, and he won’t even remember you are there. Trust me.”

The guy nods uncertainly. When he doesn’t make a move to actually leave to Tony’s lab, Steve points towards the elevator. “You know the way?”

“Theoretically,” the guy mutters.

“JARVIS, give him access to the elevator so he can get to the lab, and help him if he gets lost,” Steve says.

“Yes, sir.”

Steve claps the shocked guy on his shoulder. “You can do it,” he says with a chuckle, and then continues on his way to the gym.

“Uh, thanks!” the guy shouts after him.

Steve doesn’t bother hiding his smile, since he’s turned away and there’s nobody to see. The guy’s fussing over the little robot was as sweet as it was ridiculous.

He tries to push the guy out of his mind.

  


**1999**

“Steve!” Bucky yelled as he ran towards Steve’s booth on the first open Expo day the next summer.

Steve threw his notebook down and rushed through the crowds of people, who were quick to make way for him.

Bucky threw his arms around him. “You remember me? Shit, I spent whole winter thinking about what if you forgot me, or what if they replaced you--”

Steve knocked Bucky’s thick head with his knuckles. “You’re such a dumb worrywart, Bucky. Of course I remember you.” The people around were laughing and a few flashes of cameras went off, reminding Steve that he was on a clock. “But you gotta let me go, I’ve got work to do.”

Bucky let go off him grudgingly, shooting a few glares at the people around them, and then turned back to Steve. “Did they tell you that I got a job here too? I gotta do a lot of shit, but now they _ pay _ me to hang around your booth in the afternoons.”

Before Steve had a chance to answer, a jovial looking man with a camera and a thick notebook stepped closer and smiled at Bucky. “You must be young James Barnes? I’m William Reed from the New York Times. Mr. Stark mentioned that I might find you here.”

Bucky gave him a suspicious glare. “Why do you wanna talk with me?”

The man snapped his notebook open and his smile grew wider. “Mr. Stark told me about the extraordinary friendship you’ve managed to strike here. This is a story that the public would love to hear more about--”

“Fuck off,” Bucky said. “I’ve heard the shit everyone talks about him. If you wanna know about him, ask _ him, _I’m not gonna fucking tell you anything--”

Steve elbowed him sharply. “Bucky, you can’t talk to people like that if you don’t wanna _lose your job_ on the first day--”

A woman gasped and tried to tug Bucky farther away from Steve. “Did it hurt you?”

Bucky shook the woman’s hand off and glared at her. _ “No.” _

“Bucky, just go,” Steve said. “We both got work to do.”

Bucky shot him an unhappy glare. “Fine. But I’ll be back after lunch, okay?”

  


**2014**

Steve isn’t sure what exactly prompts him to go out of his way on Monday to seek out the roomba guy, but he manages to find him in the eleventh floor labs with JARVIS' help.

(He’s lying to himself. He knows exactly why he’s seeking out the roomba guy again. He needs to see him again to put his mind to rest.)

“Mr. Rogers,” one of the senior engineers greets him, smiling slimily as always. Steve may not officially work in the tower, but his unofficially well known status as one of Tony's close friends gets him attention whenever he's around. “How may I help you?”

Steve points at the roomba guy, who’s typing up something in the corner, his eyebrows burrowed in deep concentration. “I wanted to talk with one of your assistants, if that’s alright. It won’t take long.”

“With James?” the senior engineer says with a surprise. “Oh, sure.”

Steve waits by the doorway while he fetches James for him.

James’s eyes widen as he sees Steve. He stands up and walks to the door, looking confused yet smiling a little. “Hey, uh, you were asking for me?”

“Just wondered how it went with the little guy,” Steve says and smiles at him.

James lets out a nervous chuckle, eyeing his coworkers who are not so discreetly listening in on their conversation. “Uh, it went very well. The little guy’s back on work.” His eyes lighten up as he continues: “We made some upgrades, and he’s the most badass little cleaner in the building now. He can fucking climb the walls now.”

“Language,” says the senior engineer from the few foot away, with the bored tone of someone who feels like they’re repeating themselves.

“Shit, sorry,” James says brightly to him and then turns back to Steve. “Want me to show you?”

“I’d love that,” Steve says.

The senior engineer coughs pointedly.

“Just taking my lunch break early!” James says hastily with a charming smile thrown at his boss, before grabbing Steve’s arm and dragging him along the hallway.

Steve follows readily, his heart clenching a little as he can’t tear his eyes away from the familiar yet impossible birthmark on James’s neck, exposed by his long dark hair tied up in a bun.

  


**1999**

It was an unusual evening. Bucky was in a weird mood, for once quiet and deeply lost in his thoughts. There was no barrage of questions or stories thrown in Steve’s direction. Bucky kept nibbling at his food, and didn’t even notice when Steve stole his second muffin.

Steve was starting to get worried, but he didn’t know what he was supposed to do, when Bucky finally broke the silence: “Do you even like it here?”

“What?”

“Being here. In Expo.” Bucky was looking at him solemnly.

“I…” Steve didn’t know what to say. “Where else could I be?”

Bucky’s gaze hardened and he stood up. “Let’s go.”

Steve blinked at him. They often wandered around the Expo in the evenings, but they had never _ left _ the area. “Where?”

“To Brooklyn.”

  


**2014**

Steve can’t help but be utterly charmed by James’s enthusiasm when he shows off the roomba to him.

“--he’s got a couple of new sensors now too, he can use echolocation like bats in case we wanna let him fly one day, and--” James suddenly cuts off and lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “Sorry. I just, I nerd out on this stuff, and you did ask… I swear, I’m usually a lot smoother than this, but uh, sleep deprivation and I’ve been pretty hyped about this, so uh...”

“I did ask,” Steve says and smiles. “Don’t worry about it.”

James shoots him an almost shy glance, which quickly morphs into a confident smirk, which Steve is sure is at least half faked. _ ‘Fake it ‘til you make it’, _ echoes inside his head, said by a young cocky boy who always seemed larger than life to Steve. “Yeah, you did. But hey, I haven’t even thanked you for your help. You were right, you know. It could have destroyed my career if I had tried and failed to smuggle him out of the tower.”

“It could have,” Steve agrees. “Even dismissing the surveillance that JARVIS keeps up here, I’m pretty certain that that little guy is bumped up with the trackers. Tony can be quite protective of his tech. I can’t say I understand your motivation, but I can respect wanting to help something in need.”

James’s face tightens and he shrugs. “You can think all you want that I’m crazy for caring about ‘just a roomba’. Just so you know, I think the same of you for being that ignorant. But still, thanks for the help.”

Steve frowns. “What do you mean, ignorant?”

“Just, uh, your attitude is pretty demeaning towards the little guy. But I don’t hold it against you, not like, on a personal level. Humanity has always been very keen on playing superior to anything it can. It’s gotten better on many fronts, but even these days specializing in AI psychology and ethics gets me laughed out of most circles pretty fast.”

Steve does his best to not snort, but judging by James’s face, he fails keeping his poker face straight. “Sorry, but… AI ethics?”

“I believe that the so called artificial beings should be treated with the same base respect and rights than biological beings,” James says. “And alright, I’m kinda on extremist end and I can admit that it _ is _ kinda loony to empathize with _ roombas, _ but I fucking know that one day the future will look back on us and hardly believe how barbaric we used to be with our treatment of advanced AIs and androids. You ever heard of Stark Industries’s SuperSoldier program in the 90s?”

  


**1999**

“This is my bedroom,” Bucky said and flopped down onto the bed, grinning widely to Steve. “What do ya think?”

Steve sat slowly onto the edge of the bed, taking in the room. It’s a small one, smaller than Steve’s booth, but it’s so _ full _ of stuff. Various posters cover the walls and the bookcase is full of books with colorful spines. 

“You live here?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said and then jumped up from the bed again, not able to stay still for long, as usual. He went over to the bookcase and pulled a few out. “Hey, you wanna borrow some of these?” Bucky paused and turned to regard him with a frown. “You can read, right?”

“Of course I can, you dumbass.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and turned back to his books. “I was just asking.”

“Well, you were asking a dumbass question.”

“Shut up. Hey, I wanna show you this one, it’s my favorite.”

“That’s not a book, it’s all pictures. Can _ you _ read?”

Bucky showed at him and then got back onto the bed. “Smartass. It’s a _ comic book. _ C’mon, let’s read it.”

  


**2014**

A sharp pain slashes through Steve’s head. “Not much.”

James lets out a mirthless scoff. “Google it sometimes. There’s a wikipage on the scandal, although pretty fucking biased and scarce on actual details. I tried to keep fixing it, until my account got banned. But basically, it was a secret program sponsored by the government, masqueraded as SI’s harmless little pet project. They were experimenting and prototyping SuperSoldiers, androids who could perform better than actual humans in the battlefield. When the shit hit the fan, well. Go read it for yourself."

Steve’s head throbs. “That’s nonsense.”

“It’s fucking not, _ I was there--” _ James stops and squints his eyes at him.

  


**1999**

Bucky told him to hide and keep quiet after his parents got home from work. Steve didn’t mind waiting. He was used to it. Most of his life was about waiting. Waiting for the morning to come, for the work to continue, for Bucky to come back to him.

He flipped quietly the pages of the book that Bucky had left for him.

When Bucky’s bedroom door opened the next time, it wasn’t Bucky, though.

It was Mr. Stark, who smiled at him with an indulgent smile and offered his hand to him.

“I think you’ve had enough time off. Time to get back home.”

  


**2014**

“Holy shit, are you--”

“That’s nonsense,” Steve repeats, dully.

“Wait-- I’m sorry, I didn’t realize--"

  


**2000**

“None of this is right,” Bucky said to him the next summer.

Steve didn’t understand what the problem was. “Stop being so fucking pissed off all the time,” Steve said, maybe more edgily than Bucky deserved, but he was starting to get tired of Bucky’s moodiness this year. It felt like the extra inches that Bucky had gained had also given him some pretty damn annoying temper issues.

“Well, fuck you too,” Bucky grumbled, but laid on the ground, his head on top of Steve’s thighs.

“Your head is heavy.”

“They’re keeping you a slave,” Bucky said. “And they made sure you could never understand it. They must be planning something for you. Something big, and I know I’m not gonna like it. You’re too smart for them to leave you alone. I’ve been reading _newspapers,_ and Stark is involved in a lot of shady business.”

“You’re exaggerating, Buck,” Steve said with an eye roll. “This is not that bad of a job. Stop with your nonsense.”

“Do you trust me, Steve?”

Steve paused, and looked away from his drawing to Bucky. “Of course I do.”

“I’m going to get you out of here,” Bucky said. “We’re gonna go on the run.”

  


**2014**

James is staring at him, with his eyes wide and panicked.

“Hey,” Steve says, slowly coming back to himself. “I, uh-”

“I’m sorry,” James says. “Hey, uh. Let’s start over? Can I buy you a coffee?”

“Sure,” Steve says.

“That’s… great. Awesome.” James’s eyes flicker between Steve and the security cameras at the end of the hallway. “Let’s go. I know a good place just outside from here.”

Steve’s head aches, but it’s getting better and the pain is almost gone once they get outside.

They’re almost out of the sight from the tower, when James says in a low voice: “You’re Captain America, right?”

Steve freezes and stops on his tracks.

James swears and hisses: “Keep walking.”

Steve doesn’t bulge. “Are you trying to threaten me?”

“No. Listen. You’re in danger. I’ve been actually trying to find you, ever since you showed up two years ago. I suspected that Tony Stark is Iron Man, no matter how much he has tried to deny that, and… Look, it’s a long story, but I knew he was up to something fishy when Captain America showed up-”

“He found me,” Steve interrupts. “He saved me.”

James narrows his eyes. “He found you, alright. And then he ordered you to fight with him. You might think he’s your friend, but I know Starks. You’re disposable to him. You need to get away from him.”

“No,” Steve says. “He's not... he hasn't been forcing me to do anything."

“Bullshit. Listen, you don’t know Starks like I do. His father killed my best friend.”

Steve swallows. “It’s really you, isn’t it? Bucky?”

Bucky stares at him. “I don’t go by that name anymore.”

“You can’t just throw a name away,” Steve says weakly. “I gave it to you. How the hell are you here? I thought you were dead.”

“You… _Steve?”_

Steve pulls him into a hug.

\---

“I thought that Stark had created… another like you, and was using Captain America,” Bucky says later, when they are sitting on Steve’s couch in Steve’s spacious apartment with the sight overseeing the Brooklyn beach. “I didn’t think it could be _ you.” _

“He told me you were dead.”

Bucky’s face turns dark. “I’ll fucking kill him--”

“Howard, I mean. You were right. He wasn’t a very good man.”

“Told you so.”

“Yes, you did.”

Bucky worries his lip. “Are you certain about Tony being better? He didn’t seem too bad when he helped me fix the roomba, but…”

“He’s okay,” Steve says. “He’s my friend.”

“We’ll see,” Bucky mutters.

“You aren’t gonna go fight the boss of the boss of your boss,” Steve says and bumps his shoulder against Bucky’s.

“You would do the same for me.”

“True.”

  


**2012**

“Why do you treat them like you do?”

Tony looks up to Steve with an indecipherable face. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not like,” Steve start and then searches for the words. “It’s not like they actually understand anything. Feel, think. It’s just pre-programmed code.”

“So are humans,” Tony says. “There’s a basic ‘code’ that dictates how our bodies form as we grow up, how our hormones work and affect us, how our memories are formed, how our minds--”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“From my point of view, it’s pretty darn similar. Well, Dummy might be closer to a dog than a human, but--”

“But you don’t have proof. That they are actually like us.”

“Well. In the end, I don’t have any proof that anyone else on this planet or elsewhere actually has a consciousness, if we want to get philosophical about it. It’s all just a leap of faith.”

“But they’re only a pile of metal--”

“Just as humans are only a pile of flesh. C’mon, you’re a smart guy, Steve. There’s plenty of psychopathic humans who I would trust less than any of my robots.”

Steve shakes his head. “Human lives matter more than robots. Some things just are so.”

Tony considers him for a moment. “I guess that’s part of your basic code, then. Huh. Well, Cap. You just have to accept that that goes against _ my _ way of thinking, then.”

  


**2000**

They were on a train towards the south. They were _ on the run. _

Bucky was talking a mile a minute, in a hushed tone, going over the plans he had made. Steve was listening, kind of, but there was a pressure building inside him, a feeling that was suffocating him.

“I love you,” Steve said, interrupting Bucky’s monologue.

Bucky stared at him, gobsmacked.

“I just thought, you know, that you oughta know,” Steve said.

“But do you even…” Bucky started, but trailed off. He stared at Steve in wonder. Then he nodded. “Okay.”

“That’s, uh, that’s all you gonna say?” Steve asked.

“Christ, I dunno. You just sprang that out on me out of nowhere--”

“‘Out of nowhere’? Seriously, Bucky--”

\---

When the men with the guns stepped inside their carriage, it was like a switch flipped inside of Steve.

His focus crystallized, concentrating on the important facts.

There were enemies. Bucky was in danger.

His mind expected himself to be stronger, taller, for some reason, but he made it work.

\---

Adrenaline, he thought later, much later, when he tried to rationalize to himself how he killed in cold blood the men (twice his size) who tried to kidnap them.

\---

“You always had a fighter’s soul inside you,” Mr. Stark explained it, afterwards. “Shame for the whole public backlash, but I’m glad that you fought them off. I don’t want to think what would have happened to you in their hands.”

  


**2012**

“My father destroyed your body after he saved you on an external hard drives, but he never destroyed the original builds since nobody knew about them or could demand proof of their disposal,” Tony explains it, after waking Steve up. “You were always a supersoldier designed for military use, crammed inside a ‘harmless’ body. My father was an egotistical man, and you were his finest creation even in your testing phase, so of course he couldn’t resist showing you off in some way in the public. Don’t make me regret waking you up, buddy, or giving you this body. I’m really, _ really _ not looking forward to putting you down if you turn out to be an evil super AI after all.”

“Cut the nonsense,” Steve says to that, “and get to the point.”

“I’m trying, my friend,” Tony says. “But you’ve got some stubborn code blocking the way. Do you have a name or anything I should call you by?”

  


**2014**

Bucky takes his hand as the sun is setting down and casting the living room in beautiful, warm evening light. “I never got to say it back to you, but I’ve got over a decade to think on it. I do, you know. Got a fucking official thesis and all to show you all my arguments for it.”

Steve swallows. “We were only kids, you don’t have to--”

“I love you. I did, and I still do. I regretted that I never got to say it to you.”

“...okay.”

Bucky leans against him. “That’s all you gonna say, huh?”

“I’ll get back to you in fourteen years.”

Bucky pokes his thigh. And again. And again.

_ “Fine. _ I love you. Always did, and still do. You can stop poking me now.”

“You’re bloody huge,” Bucky mutters and pokes his thigh one more time. “I’m still trying to wrap my mind around this. You’re Captain America.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you…” Bucky pauses and then starts again. “Will you tell me what happened? What's your... version?”

Steve muses over it for a moment. “I’ll try. But I think there’ll be some holes in the story.”

  
"I don't care," Bucky says. "Just tell me."  
  



End file.
